Some things better left alone
by Night Seraph
Summary: Jack has the urge to save every street rat he can find...well...what happens when one doesn't want to be saved? OFC, not a Mary Sue, PLEASE R & R.
1. Chapter 1

***Standard Disclaimers apply: I don't own Newsies. I do own Ice.***  
  
The fire began when she tipped over a candle in the barn. Flames surrounded her, racing along the straw-covered floor towards her, away from her, and above her. She heard her family calling her, saw her father enter the barn, and was reaching out for him to grab her when a thick burning wooden beam, fell on top of him, trapping him beneath the flames. She watched him scream, and scream, and scream, then stop...and die. She couldn't move, flames were licking her body, singeing her hair, and coming closer. She couldn't reach her father, couldn't even move and was screaming as loud as she could for someone to help her. Suddenly the floor beneath her weakened, and the burning floorboards cracked, sending her deep into the vegetable cellar below. A burning board fell across her temple and then hit her arm before smoldering on the dark, moist earth that surrounded them. She hurt and the smoke was filling her lungs, but the terrified 5 year old still scrambled to the deepest, darkest corner of the earthen cellar she could. There she huddled all night while the fire raged and spread to the fields and forest surrounding the barn. There she huddled all night, waiting for the fire to stop, all the while listening to her family scream as they died.  
  
Twelve years later she opened her eyes, dry, cold eyes. The dream hadn't changed in all those years, every morning she awoke to the echoes of her own childish sobbing and family's screams. Every morning for the past decade she'd reminded herself, she killed her family. Oh, she knew it was an accident, she knew she hadn't meant to turn over the candle. But she also knew she hadn't been allowed to play with matches, but had done so anyways. She knew it was all her fault. Every morning for the past twelve years she'd let this knowledge kill her, wrap a layer of ice around her heart. Her nickname on the streets was just that, Ice, because she was a cold fighter, never showing emotion. Ever. She could barely remember her real name, the name of the girl who'd killed her family. For those few minutes every morning, she became that terrified five year-old by that other name, but for the rest of the day, she was Ice.  
  
She'd come to New York City to live with a great-aunt, who had been her only living relative. The social worker that'd taken her from her hometown in upstate New York had come to the city only to find that the aunt had died of shock the night she'd heard the news. Now the little girl had nobody, so the social worker took her to the nearest orphanage and left her, cold, silent, and alone. She hadn't spoken a word since the fire, and eventually the nuns grew tired of the strange little murderer who refused to repent to their priest. The decided to send her to a type of mental institution for children, where she'd spent 3 hellish weeks before climbing over the small stone wall with her small bundle clutched in her hands. Since then she'd been on the streets, sometimes stealing, sometimes doing odd jobs when they arose. She'd done almost everything, but not for the sake of living, she wanted to die. She did it for the sake of survival, because she was too ashamed to face her family in the afterlife.  
  
Late one particular summer night, she was walking along some random street (she didn't really care which one), when she noticed two men beating up on one tall, thin boy. She was about to keep walking; after all, it wasn't her problem, when she noticed the scared looking boy being protected by the older one. Instantly she became that other girl, always following her older brother around. He'd been about nine when she'd killed him. Calling herself ten different types of fool she grabbed a board off the side of the road, and used it to strike on of the boys across the back of the head. Sending him down in a slump, she ducked the other aggressor's fist, took a hard punch in the stomach, then used her own fist to punch him in the short ribs and sent a sharp kick to his groin. When he doubled over in agony she kicked him under his chin, sending his head back into the side of the brick building. Once finished she turned to pick up her bundle and heard a loud thwack. The first attacker had stumbled to his feet and was preparing to plant a knife in her ribs when the small boy had hit him again with the same board she'd used earlier on in the fight. She nodded her thanks solemnly to the small boy and turned to leave.  
  
"Wait!" he cried, "can you help with my brother? Please, he's hurt real bad, and I gotta get him to Jack. He's a newsie, he lives real close, please lady?"  
  
Ice turned to notice that the taller boy had taken several hard hits to the head and was slumped against the same wall she'd plowed the second attacker's head into. Sighing she silently reminded herself that this is why she didn't get involved. Avoiding looking at the boy that looked so much like her brother, she picked up the older boy and threw his arm around her shoulder. It was awkward, she being a good deal shorter than he, but with his brother on the other side, they managed to get him three blocks to the Duane Street Newsboy's Lodging House. The small boy had tried to get her to talk, but eventually he just subsided, realizing she wouldn't talk, or even look at him. Once they got to the door of the Lodging House, she set the older boy down on the steps and turned to walk away.  
  
"Wait!" said the small boy again, "Thank you for helping us."  
  
She nodded and turned to go.  
  
"Do you have a place to sleep?" the boy asked.  
  
She kept walking. Even if she'd just saved the governor himself, she wouldn't have stayed in his mansion. She'd broken a cardinal rule of the streets: "Never get involved if it isn't your business." She'd let her guard down, let that boy's face and age get to her. Ice is what she needed, desperately, and ice would come with morning.  
  
The nightmare was no different that night than from any other, but deep in her rest, behind the crates in an alley, that other girl knew she listened harder for her brother's death, even as she tried to block them all out. It never worked, and in the end, only the ice around her heart would save her from awaking every morning with tears in her eyes. Tears would break a second rule of the streets: "Never show weakness."  
  
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	2. Chapter 2

Back at the Lodging House, Les beat frantically against the door. It opened to reveal a very tired Kloppman, who had been preparing to discipline a rude night visitor or late newsie. Seeing Les holding David's head on his lap made him sigh and remind himself that if he didn't look after these guys, nobody would.  
  
He and Les dragged David to the small room Kloppman slept in, where he checked David over for serious wounds. Finding none he sewed several deeper gashes together with a practiced hand and let the boy fall into a much needed rest. Then Kloppman turned to Les and asked , "Are your parents expecting you home?"  
  
"No," said Les seriously, "they're used to us sleeping here."  
  
"Good," replied Kloppman, "Do you need a bed?"  
  
"Can I stay with David?" asked Les, looking scared.  
  
Kloppman smiled, "Sure, little fellow, just use that chair over there." He handed Les a blanket, put the cloths he'd used with the others to be washed and set about sleeping in another chair across the room.  
  
A few hours later he awoke, stretched his neck, and went to wake the boys. Jack before all the rest, led him downstairs and left the Manhattan leader with David and began his usual morning *clomp* up the stairs. Back in his room, Jack ran a cursory eye over David, checked his stitching and changed the blood-soaked bandage around his arm. Sending silent thanks for Kloppman's skill he gently shook Les awake.  
  
"Jack!" the boy shouted upon opening his eyes, "did you see David? Is he ok?"  
  
"Yeah, kid, " said Jack gruffly, "he's fine..so now you got to tell me what happened."  
  
"It was the Delancy brothers!" said Les rushing, "they were waiting around the House for one of the newsies, 'cause they were drunk and stuff, but when they saw us they followed us and started hitting us..."  
  
"Wait," Jack interrupted, "they hit you, Les?"  
  
"Well." the boy looked abashed, "it was kind of an accident...see, I was trying to hold back Morris' arm when it came back and elbowed me in the face. I got a bruise though!" Les proudly showed Jack the purple mark along the side of his face.  
  
"So they just left you guys there?" Jack asked angrily.  
  
"No," Les brightened when he realized he hadn't told anyone the best part about it, "an angel saved us!"  
  
"An angel?" said Jack slowly, incredulous, but not wanting to hurt the kid's feelings, "Les are you sure that knock on the head didn't do anything?"  
  
"She had to have been an angel!" Les cried, "She came out of nowhere, didn't speak, saved us, helped me bring David here, then left. She didn't even need a place to sleep."  
  
Jack sighed, "Was she eight feet tall?" he asked, drawing on his scanty religious knowledge.  
  
"No." Les said.  
  
"Did she have a flaming sword?"  
  
"No"  
  
"Did she have wings and a white cape?"  
  
"No," said Les sulkily, dropping back into the chair with his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands.  
  
"Then, Les me boy, she wasn't an angel." Jack patted him on the back. "But," he said, noticing Les' crestfallen face, "How about we tell the boys to keep a lookout for her, ok?"  
  
Les brightened, "Ok!"  
  
"After I buy my papers I'll take you home so your parents know you're with me, and then at lunch we'll tell the boys about your night." When Les nodded his assent Jack ruffled his hair and turned to walk into the hall, where the other boys were just coming down the stairs. He pulled Racetrack aside, "Hey, Race, save me breakfast, will you?" To Race's quizzical expression, he shook his head and said, "I'll explain everything later...thanks buddy!" Then Jack went upstairs to wash up and change. After he and Les rejoined the other boys outside the distribution center gates, they kept a sharp eye out for the Delancy brothers. When they never appeared, Jack nudged Mush, who was sitting beside him reading his paper, "Where are Weasel's whipping boys today?"  
  
Mush laughed, "Didn't you hear? Those two were found drunk as ducks this morning and escorted to the local precinct. Weasel got them out only to have 'em pass out from hangovers in the back room."  
  
Jack cracked a grin, which seemed to satisfy the hysterical Mush, who calmed down to ask, "So where were you this morning?"  
  
Jack shook his head "Get the boys together at Tibby's for lunch and I'll tell everything at once, k?"  
  
Mush nodded gravely, "Sure thing, Jack." **************************************************************************** * 


	3. Chapter 3

Around lunchtime all the Duane Street newsies were gathered in Tibby's, all murmuring "what they'd heard" about Jack's big meeting. Boots, panicked, had even hightailed it to Brooklyn to fetch Spot. Rumors were flying and when Jack pushed open Tibby's door with Les at his side he was greeted with half a dozen different questions:  
  
"Why you leaving us, Jack?" "What sort of job did you get?" "Who left you the money?" "Who killed Davey?" "Did you really soak both Delancys dead?" "Why are you marrying Sarah?"  
  
At this last question Jack gave several odd looks to the excited newsie. As Spot pushed his way to the front he asked, "So Jackie-Boy, whats this I hear about you leaving your boys in my hands?" Jack finished the spitshake with him and quirked his eyebrow up. "I don't know what you're hearing Spot, but all the same I'm glad you're here, maybe you can help me."  
  
Jack jumped up on a table and waved his arms for the newsies to settle down. Finally he stuck two fingers in his mouth and gave a loud, piercing whistle. The room fell silent and Jack cleared his throat, "Thank you all for coming, now, despite what you have heard, the reason I'm here is to ask all of you for help for some friends of ours." He put his hands on Les' shoulders and brought him to the attention of everyone present. "Davey was soaked last night by a couple of guys..." at the shouts of anger, Jack whistled again, "guys who you will leave to my capable hands." There were a few chuckles in the audience. "However," he continued, "Les would like you guys to keep your eyes open for a girl who helped the two of them last night. If you see her, just come tell me." Bringing Les up on the table he said, "Tell them, Les."  
  
"She's real short, brown hair, brown eyes, and a good fighter," Les said breathlessly.  
  
Racetrack cracked, "You want us looking for every girl in New York? Les you got to give us something more."  
  
Les thought for a moment, then blurted out, "She's got two scars, one right here," he said, holding his fingers between the corner of his eye and his hairline, "and the other one here," he drew a finger from the back of his hand across to the middle of his forearm. He eagerly looked out at the sea of newsies for a gleam of recognition. None of the guys seemed to recognize the description and they went about ordering their lunches. Les looked so crestfallen that Race and Kid Blink started a small food fight to distract his attention.  
  
Jack was just about to join in when he felt a hard tap on his shoulder, he turned to see Spot standing behind him solemnly. "Let's take a walk, Jack," he said, and Jack nodded, curiosity piqued. They walked a little way towards Horace Greeley when Spot suddenly turned and whipped his cane across Jack's chest, holding it there. "You don't want to find this girl, Jack."  
  
"Why not?" Jack exclaimed, "She saved Davey!"  
  
"I don't know why," Spot replied, "this girl lives by the rules of the street and to do something like this is bound to be bigger than you know."  
  
"Who is she?" asked Jack, confused.  
  
Spot sighed, "You ever heard of Ice?" he asked grimly.  
  
"Bits and pieces," replied Jack, "He's a loner, a decent fighter, and mainly in Brooklyn, although he's been know to pop up everywhere."  
  
"Yeah, well," replied Spot with a half-grin, "he is a she, more specifically, he is your she." Spot pushed his hat back and ruffled his hair, "Awhile back I caught her, unknown to me and dressed as a guy, working down by the docks and when my boys approached "him" for his name, he ignored them. So naturally they told him to fight."  
  
Jack remained silent, Spot kept a tighter reign on Brooklyn than he did on Manhattan so "naturally" was a different opinion for him. He turned his attention back to Spot's story.  
  
"He shows up on time, not earlier or later, without any help from my boys, and still doesn't speak, even to me!" Spot looked offended at the memory. Jack contained his grin. "Anyways, I get a little angry and tell him he's going to fight me. Still no reaction from him. And this being when I didn't have such a good control of my temper, you understand, so I start out pretty hot. This guy isn't real good, an' he's far from bad, but he's hard to hit, him being so small an' all..."  
  
Jack broke in, "You didn't lose, did ya Spot?"  
  
"Of course not!" Spot looked shocked that the thought had even occurred, "But the point is, Jack, she didn't say a thing the whole time, not in anger, not in pain, nothing. She stayed completely cool the whole time."  
  
"So what happened?" Jack asked .  
  
"Well, when I found out he was a she, I stopped soaking her, but even then she still wouldn't say a word. She wouldn't let us help her either, just got to her feet and struggled away. She works around Brooklyn , doing whatever, never heard about her being with anybody. My guys leave her alone 'cause she don't start nothing with us, but she's a strong fighter, been on the streets as long as anyone can remember." Spot shook his head, "All I can say, Jack, is leave her alone, she doesn't want anybody."  
  
"Maybe this is what she needs to help her," Jack said, "you said yourself that saving Davey was out of character for her, maybe she just needs help! We can't just give up on her!"  
  
"There is no "we" in this," snapped Spot, "You heard how I met her, now here's another story for you." He spit the words out harshly. "You heard about what happened to my guy, Clack?" Jack shook his head and Spot continued. "Clack got into some trouble with a couple of rum-runners for sneaking into their stash and one night they caught up to him. They dragged him into an old building and soaked him good. She'd been sleeping in the building and watched the whole thing, just watched it!" Spot shouted angrily. "Then she gets a couple of my guys to come after the runners have left and 'remove him from her building'. I found her there later, asked why she hadn't done anything and all she says to me is "Never get involved if it's not your fight and always be able to take what you earn."  
  
Jack nodded, recognizing two rules by which street kids lived. He raised an eyebrow at Spot who had calmed from his tirade and finally shrugged his shoulders sighing. He said, "My boys and I leave hear alone, she leaves us alone. But I got to warn you Jack, you guys owe her now and if this girl ever decides to collect, you're in big trouble" With that parting shot, Spot stuck his hat jauntily on his head, felt for his slingshot in his back pocket, and walked away; whistling and cane swinging.  
  
Jack was completely floored. Les' "angel" had turned out to be anything but, he'd already sent his boys out with her on their minds, and, worst of all, he was getting that niggling feeling that he, out of the entire world, could help her. "No" he told himself viciously, "you will not get involved with this one. Play by her rules, the rules she lives by and so do you!" He mentally flayed himself all the while he chased down Spot and got a list of her most common haunts. As he walked back to the distribution center he vowed to forget them and as he walked down the streets of New York to each and every one he ordered his feet to turn around. After finding them all devoid of his quarry Jack finished selling his papers and returned to the Lodging House. That night he told himself he'd tried, thus fulfilling his promise to Les and could therefore drop the whole search. Until Snaps told him he'd seen her working in the gardens of a park about six blocks away. The next day Jack justified breaking his solemn vows to himself by saying he might as well make all his effort worth it.  
  
Snaps pointed towards a girl with a burn crossing upwards over her temple and corner of her forehead digging rose gardens for the Mayor's park "beautification" project. She seemed completely concentrated on the job in front of her, but when Jack was six feet away she said calmly and without missing a beat in her digging, "What do you want?"  
  
Jack sighed, this should be interesting, "Ice?" he asked.  
  
"What do you want, Cowboy?" the girl replied coldly, still ignoring Jack for the roses.  
  
"You saved two of my boys the other night "  
  
She finally looked up, "So?"  
  
"So why?" Jack squatted down, level to her, and spoke softly, "I know your rep, why'd ya do it?"  
  
Ice looked Jack in the eyes, cold and unyielding meeting warm and open, "You and your boys owe me one." Seeing Jack tense she continued, "so now I'm calling it in, all of you leave me alone. Don't get involved with me, don't confront me. Deal?"  
  
Jack grinned wryly and shook his head, "Wish it were that simple, but you made enemies because of us, which means we got to look out for you."  
  
"I can look out for my..." She began  
  
"And," Jack interrupted, "There's a ten-year-old boy who wants to thank the "angel" who saved him two nights ago. So" he said firmly, "You come and see him, just once, and I'll tell my boys to leave you completely alone, even with the Delancys."  
  
Ice looked up at him and he could see her mind working. "No deal." She said finally, "and if your boys do interfere, I'll just soak them after I'm through with whatever situation they've interfered in."  
  
"But then you'd be up against Manhattan as well as the Delancy brothers and your policy is invisibility. You soak my guys and you've got a whole lot of enemies, probably Brooklyn as well." Jack felt extremely satisfied with himself, having maneuvered her between his rock and hard place as he stood, intending to finish this deal and leave.  
  
She smiled a cold, humorless...no, less than humorless: dead, smile and replied, "Except for the fact that you owe me. And if you become my enemy after refusing my request which would discharge your debt...your honor on the street becomes worthless." She gave a snort, standing to reveal just how short she really was. She was about 5 feet tall, not even as tall as Jack's shoulder. Yet she exuded an aura of confidence. Not arrogance that no one would try to take her on, just confidence that she could emerge alive from a fight if they did. Jack snapped his attention back to what she was saying. "....not even Brooklyn would stand with you." She finished and crossed her arms over her chest. Jack was floored. Again. She was right; he'd forgotten the reason this whole mess started. They owed her.  
  
He sighed, "Fine, we won't protect you." They spitshook on it and she went back to digging. Luckily for Jack, she'd turned away too quickly to see a cocky grin cross his face. He left the park as quickly as he could and sped over to Brooklyn. He'd said they wouldn't protect her, but..  
  
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	4. Chapter 4

Spot shook his head vehemently, "Cowboy, you're crazy!"  
  
"C'mon, Spot, you can do it faster than anyone else in the city, I need your help!" Jack was a hair away from desperation; Spot had been his quickest solution to the problem.  
  
Spot whirled away from Jack, picked up a bottle, and threw it against the side of a building. Then he turned to his newsies, watching the proceedings with measured caution, "Half-Pint, Mud, Knots, Irish, Spits, Cheep, and Red go spread the word, Manhattan and Ice are having problems with each other. Anyone who doesn't want trouble with Manhattan doesn't let her work in his territory. Go!" Watching the boys, the smallest of Brooklyn's arsenal, run off the docks, Jack breathed a sigh of relief.  
  
"Thanks, I owe you." He said, spitting on his hand and holding it out.  
  
"Yeah, you do," said Spot, "and you're telling me right now why I just did that." He crossed his arms and looked pointedly at Jack's outstretched hand.  
  
Jack wiped his hand off and explained the brilliance that had come to him while debating with Ice over street loyalties. "If the rest of the city thinks that we're fighting, she doesn't have anyone else to turn to, 'cept Manhattan." Spot raised an eyebrow; meaning Jack might want to clarify further. He did so quickly, "I'm sending my boys out with the rumor that when I went to pay her back, she insulted me in some grievous way, thereby allowing me to "fight" her without losing any of me honor. Hopefully all the other boroughs will turn her away, forcing her back to Manhattan and right where I want her. If they don't turn her away, I find out which ones have "problems" with me that need to be settled."  
  
Spot looked impressed, "You surprise me Jackie-Boy, here I was thinking that all your borough's brains were with that Walking Mouth of yours. You got yourself a win-win situation; she doesn't have allies, and you do. But," Spot looked serious, "You never told me why you were setting this up."  
  
Jack looked down, "She insulted me, insulted my boys, an' I'm getting her back for it."  
  
"Look at me Jack," Spot commanded. Jack complied, meeting Spot's sharp eyes with his own guilty ones. "You're trying to save another one, aren't you?" asked the Brooklyn leader. When Jack didn't respond, Spot pulled out his slingshot and began lining up a shot at Jack's head. "You know," he said, "its rude not to respond when asked a question. Especially when the person asking is me!" At the last word he released the shot, the marble snapping Jack's ear in its flight to the bottle right behind him.  
  
Hissing through his teeth, Jack brought his fingers down from his ear and, seeing blood on them, said, "So what if I'm trying to help her? I won't just abandon her like...other people will."  
  
"Didn't you hear a word I said to you yesterday?" Spot demanded. "She's dangerous and you're a fool for going after her like this. How do you know she won't turn on you and take it out on your boys? Huh, Jack? Did you even think about them?" Stepping back, he said, "Get out of here Cowboy, before I really lose my temper at you." With that final word he turn and started walking back through the docks, leaving Jack wondering where he, and Manhattan, stood with Brooklyn.  
  
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When he reached the Lodging House later that night he called everyone into a meeting. Standing by his bunk he recapped the story, "...so I talked to Brooklyn about it and he sent runners to tell the other boroughs that we've got a bone to pick with Ice. When you're talking to them, agree, say we don't want Ice in any territory friendly to us. But if you see her our territory, come tell me, and I'll handle it. We are not against her, but we need the others to think we are, got it?"  
  
Race raised his hand. "Yeah, Race." Race stood cocked his head to one side and said, "This sure is a hell of a lot of trouble just to save another street rat, don't you think Jack?"  
  
"Race," Jack replied with exasperation, "if I thought that I wouldn't be doing this, now would I?"  
  
"Just a question," Race muttered, disgruntled.  
  
Jack raised his head and looked around, "Any others?" he asked. When no one spoke up, "Ok, then lets all turn in, its late and I hear Kloppman coming up the stairs." Muttering, all the newsies began to undress, leaving Jack alone in the center of the room. Deciding to check on David, he quietly moved downstairs.  
  
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"....and, uh...that's how we're gonna get her." Jack finished explaining everything for the third and hopefully final time that day.  
  
David closed his eyes, clearly exhausted and Jack moved to leave when they suddenly flew open and David said, "Hey, Jack.."  
  
Jack turned, "Yeah?"  
  
"What're you going to do once to have her?"  
  
"Go to sleep, Mouth, you look tired."  
  
"Jack?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Do you know yet?"  
  
"Not exactly."  
  
"Oh," said David as he closed his eyes, "Well, good luck...and Jack?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Thanks."  
  
"Sure Davey"  
  
As Jack closed the door to the sick room he grimaced as he realized that he actually didn't know what to do with Ice once he had her trapped. 'Talk to her.' He decided, 'and find out why she's so...cold.' Satisfied with himself, he returned to his bunk and fell fast asleep.  
  
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	5. Chapter 5

Over the next two weeks, Jack's plan went off without a hitch. There had been some minor politics cleared up with Midtown, and then Ice had been blocked there too. Jack had assigned a different newsie each day to tail her and sell on whatever route she'd taken so wherever she tried to work, he'd know about. Finally, she returned to Manhattan, sporting a bruised cheek from a small scuffle she'd been in with Harlem over their refusal to let her unload boxes for a local warehouse. Jack finished selling the morning edition, snagged Les and David from the schoolyard, and headed out to meet her. Warily, she'd begun working that day for a laundress who needed someone to make deliveries. On her way back to the woman, Jack sent Les to intercept her in the street.  
  
Running up to her, Les yelled out, "Ice!"  
  
She stiffened immediately, slowly turning around, expecting to be run out of yet another borough. When she saw Les running towards her, Jack could have sworn she looked pained, but it was so quick, he couldn't be sure. He and David sped up their pace and caught up to them just as Les threw his arms around her waist and began babbling. This time Jack was positive Ice looked as if she'd just been punched, instead of hugged. David was just getting ready to hold out his hand when she ripped herself away from Les' arms and began running down the street.  
  
Furious, Jack told David and Les he'd see them at the Lodging House and gave chase. Because she was so small she flowed quickly through the crowd, habit dampening her urge to just shove everyone out of her way and run. While Jack had a harder time maneuvering, his height let him keep her in his sights the whole time.  
  
After close to an hour of dodging crowds and slipping through narrow alleyways, she finally collapsed on the fire escape of a tenement building. Seeing Jack follow her into the alley, she struggled up the stairs to the roof, where a loose tile tripped her and she fell face first onto the rooftop. Jack leapt onto the roof in time to see her ungraceful descent and he took the opportunity to sit on the ledge and breathe.  
  
Eventually, wondering why she hadn't gotten up yet, he moved to her side. Rolling her onto her back, he saw tears streaming down her face, but when he moved to embrace her, she shoved him away. "Bastard!" she hissed through clenched teeth.  
  
"Why?" exclaimed Jack, "Why are you running so hard from everything!?"  
  
"None of your goddamn business, Cowboy, I'm not one of your guys."  
  
"Doesn't mean I can't worry you're gonna wind up dead somewhere!"  
  
"Yes it does." She hissed back, struggling to her feet. "It's my life, Jack, just take care of your own."  
  
"I'm a leader, call it a fault, but if I decide to worry that some loner is gonna get himself killed, I'm gonna find out why."  
  
"Well its none of your business, so just leave it alone!" lashing out, Ice kicked Jack in the kneecap, sending fireworks of pain shooting through the backs of his eyes. As she started to run towards the side of the building, Jack was able to call one last thing to her back.  
  
"Why the hell are you afraid to be safe?!"  
  
Tears still streaming down her face, Ice began to leap from rooftop to rooftop, never seeing the loose stone until her foot slipped and she began to fall into the black abyss below.  
  
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	6. Chapter 6

Jack reached the side of the building and reached down to help her back onto the rooftop. She'd barely managed to catch the side of the building she'd been jumping to, but her muscles were so tired that she couldn't pull herself up. When Jack had her on the roof, she collapsed, partly from fear, partly from hunger, and partly from exhaustion, both mental and physical. Jack held her close to his chest to keep her from bolting as soon as she could. Plus he was hoping actual human contact would soften her. He could feel her heart beat like a trapped animal's against his chest and hear her breath coming fast and desperate. Finally she went limp in his arms and his hold relaxed.  
  
Big mistake.  
  
Once again she shoved him away as hard as she could and took off across rooftops. This time there was no loose stone to slow her passage and she escaped. Jack remained on the rooftop for some time.just sitting and thinking until the velvet black of night had completely fallen across the city he lived and breathed. Rising to his feet he made one of the hardest decisions he'd ever had to make. He gave up. He couldn't reach her and he didn't know if anyone ever would. She was too scared to let things in and too strong to be forced. Sighing, he walked slowly back to the Lodging House.  
  
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Ice didn't stop running until she reached the trainyards. There she hopped into the closest car, already containing several such intended passengers, and huddled in a corner, using the cold metal sides of the car to envelop herself in the ice she desperately needed to hold herself together. Eventually, pure exhaustion dropped her to sleep.  
  
The next morning the train halted at some town, somewhere other than New York. The other passengers of Ice's car had warily watched each other for most of the night, none of them too trusting of the other. Yet when the car screeched to a halt and they rose to quickly exit, less their presence be discovered, one old woman reached down to wake the tiny girl who hadn't stirred for several hours. She gasped aloud when she realized that the girl was in a sleep from which she would never awake, yet she was probably happier than she'd ever been. The frozen tear tracks down her cheeks led to a small, warm, smile. She was with her family once again, and finally, her ice wasn't thick enough to withstand the warmth of their love. 


End file.
